


While You Were Sleeping

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha!Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst, Danger, F/M, Fluff, Smut, omega!reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 13:19:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16640897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: Michael has Dean somewhere out in the world and you go into heat. Without your Alpha, you go feral and Sam has to rush to find his brother before it’s too late for more than one reason.





	While You Were Sleeping

Sam hesitated at the end of the corridor. The scent wasn’t quite so bad here, in the deepest parts of the bunker where they’d found locked up dormitories that came in handy for the amount of people that had taken up residence. To tell the truth, Sam wasn’t used to being surrounded by people anymore. He hadn’t been since Stanford.

And people weren’t what you needed around you right now. It was bad enough dealing with his scent, Jack’s even, the ones you were used to when you were like this. Throw in a dozen other new scents, some Alpha, some Beta, and Sam was positive it must have felt like torture.

At least now you were unconscious. In some ways that was a positive. On the other hand…

… it meant you were fading faster than they expected.

Right now, Jack was sitting in with you, reading. He’d been the only one aside from Mary that had been able to be near you for any prolonged time without you reacting in a bad way.

Sam fingered the long gash down the side of his throat. It wasn’t deep, not deep enough to be dangerous but deep enough to sting when he touched it. You’d done that with your nails when he’d walked in. After that, Mary decided it would be a good idea to isolate you away from anyone that could get hurt.

Feral Omegas. A subject he’d only seen in books. Granted, you were the only Omega he’d ever met, being that they were less that 0.3% of the American population and rapidly declining. It was a genetic lottery that you’d always felt like you lost, until you met Dean.

Now, the one thing you needed was out there, Michael’s prisoner. Dean was gone and Sam had no idea where he was or if he’d find him before you lost your fight.

Scratching his head, Sam turned away from the room at the end of the hall and trudged back upstairs, finding his mom in the war room with Bobby and a handful of other hunters. They were discussing something but Sam was too tired to care, heading straight for his own room.

He needed sleep. He needed to figure everything out.

His phone rang as his head hit the pillow and he groaned. Despite telling himself he wasn’t going to answer it, Sam picked up the half-dead device and answered.

Twenty minutes later, he was in the Impala.

*****

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you could feel the heat breaking you down. It didn’t hurt anymore - you weren’t conscious enough to feel the pain. Your dreams had taken over, giving you peace as your body started to falter.

Dean was with you. His scent surrounded you, skin touching skin as you sank into a memory to escape. One from before Michael, before Lucifer, before the Mark.

A stormy winter had knocked the generators out and Dean had been trying to fix them. When he finally did and returned to you, you were bundled in layers of covers, shivering despite the little portable heater he’d brought in. He stripped down and slipped into the bed behind you, the warmth of his skin making you cling to him instantly.

“Cold?” Dean teased, running his hands over your skin. You tucked your feet between his bare calves and he hissed. “Fuck.”

“Lil’ bit,” you giggled and he growled in response, sweeping you into a kiss, both of you covered except for your heads. “You fixed it?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, kissing a path along your jaw to his mark on your throat. “Lemme warm you up.”

You gasped when his fingers pressed between your thighs, seeking out the wetness nestled there. His name fell from your lips in a whimper and you spread your legs, granting him the access he was seeking.

“That’s it, ‘mega,” Dean purred, pressing one single digit into you up to the knuckle, curving it inside you to seek out the little spot that made your hips jerk violently. He knew your body like no one else ever had, could make you cum by barely touching you.

Already, you’d forgotten about the cold, clinging to Dean’s strong upper arms as he worked a second finger into your willing body. You writhed on his hand, practically fucking yourself onto him and Dean chuckled, dragging his teeth across his mark on your throat.

“Warmer?” he asked and you nodded, managing to open your eyes and look at him.

“Yeah,” you whispered.

“Hmm.” Dean moved, exposing your breasts to the cold air outside the covers. Your nipples were already hard and aching and he slid his tongue around one until you were whining pitifully. “You still feel cold to me, sweetheart.”

He withdrew his hand from between your thighs, ignoring your mewl of protest. Lifting himself onto his knees, he pulled the blankets with him, cocooning you both inside them like a pornographic burrito. You could feel his breath on your lips, Dean’s warmth suffusing your entire body and you lifted your legs a little, a needy whine emerging against his mouth.

One of his hands slipped between your bodies, guiding his cock into you. You couldn’t help but arch into the contact, relishing the pleasurable stretch as he filled you up.

“That good, baby?” he muttered, lips ghosting over yours. You nodded and gasped when he used one hand to tilt your lower body, his thick fingers spreading over your ass and hip. “So wet for me,” he groaned, rolling his hips, pulling back before burying himself again.

You were sweating now, unbearably hot but the covers were like concrete; Dean was even heavier. He fucked into you, grunting and growling like a beast, digging his fingers into your flesh. It was harder to breathe with each passing second and you weren’t sure if you were going to cum or die.

“This is what it’ll always be like,” Dean promised, his voice sounding muffled, maybe distant. You couldn’t keep your eyes open, so you stopped fighting.

Sweat dribbled down your skin. Your body shuddered as the covers held you down. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew this wasn’t a memory. This wasn’t that night, when Dean had made love to you under the blankets and you hadn’t left the bed for two days.

Dean was gone.

And you weren’t far behind.

*****

“Sammy?”

He’d thought it was Michael stumbling in through those doors so when his familiar nickname rolled off of his brother’s tongue, Sam just about collapsed on the spot. Dean lifted his hand, pulling the hat off and hazy green eyes focused on him.

It was Dean. Sam’s doubts melted away as he rushed at his brother, guiding him to sit before he fell. The elder Winchester looked exhausted, more drained than Sam had ever seen him.

But even with the joy filling his chest, Sam knew he had to ask, had to know where Michael was. And he was not expecting the answer his brother gave him.

Dean was silent as they led him to the car, settling him in the passenger seat. Mary and Bobby opted to stay behind and clear up the archangel’s mess - Sam didn’t miss the shudder of Dean’s shoulders as they spoke. Considering the things both of them had seen in their time as hunters, it concerned Sam that Dean was so shaken.

He hadn’t even asked about you.

Pausing before he got into the driver’s seat, Sam pulled out his phone and texted Jack. The boy replied quickly like all teenagers do, but his answer made Sam’s throat tighten and tears sting his eyes. Wiping at them, he informed Jack they’d be home soon and pocketed his phone again.

Dean was staring out of the front window when he climbed in and shut the door. Sam watched him for a second before turning the key in the ignition.

“Sam?” Dean’s voice was croaky and Sam made a mental note to stop for food and water as soon as they could. They needed to be quick but Dean probably hadn’t had either of those things since Michael took him. Sam remembered the aftereffects of being possessed by an angel for a long period of time and he hadn’t even been ridden by one of the big four then. He could only imagine how wrecked Dean felt.

“Yeah?” Sam replied, glancing over at his brother.

“Where’s Y/N?” At the mention of your name, Sam choked up. “She didn’t come with you?” When Sam didn’t answer, Dean looked at him, the first spark of life coming into his eyes. “Sam. Where’s Y/N?”

Swallowing, Sam tucked his chin into his chest, feeling the scruff of his beard against his shirt collar. “Y/N got sick. She’s -”

“No,” Dean was shaking his head, “no, she’s not -”

“She’s not dead,” Sam reassured him, although he couldn’t look him in the eye. “She went into heat about a week after you…” It made it sound like it was Dean’s fault and it wasn’t. Even you hadn’t predicted your heat - they’d always been irregular. “She went into heat and we couldn’t do anything. For the first few days, she was managing and then…”

He trailed off, remembering when you’d started blacking out as the fever began to take hold. It was only shortly after that that you had attacked him. How was he supposed to tell his brother that if they didn’t get back soon, it would be too late to do anything?

Cas couldn’t heal the damage as fast as the fever was causing it. Your body was shutting down without the required physical connection with your Alpha.

“How long?” Dean asked, his tone neutral. Sam could practically smell the anger and despair coming off of him.

“A few hours,” Sam admitted.

“Why didn’t you do anything?”

The question took Sam by surprise and he looked over at his brother with wide eyes. “We did everything we could. What were we supposed to do, give her to another Alpha like some kind of broken toy?” Dean’s answering growl was threatening and Sam sighed, shaking his head as he focused back on the road. “Dean, she was feral. She attacked me. We had to make sure she couldn’t hurt herself or anyone else.” Not that you could now; you hadn’t managed to get out of bed for the last four days.

Jack had mentioned hallucinations, that you were calling out for Dean.

Dean sat up a little straighter, peering forward through the windscreen. “How far are we from home?”

“About four hours? We need to stop for -”

“No, keep going,” Dean ordered and Sam frowned.

“Dude, you need to eat.”

“No.” Dean wasn’t looking at him. “She can go faster than this,” he murmured. “Stop the car, I’m driving.”

“What?” Sam exclaimed. “Dean, no -”

The Alpha’s eyes were blazing when he turned them on his brother and Sam kept his eyes on the road, staying firm. Dean was weak; no matter his usual physical advantage, Sam knew he could put him down. But if he grabbed the wheel, Dean would kill them both and Sam wasn’t sure he was thinking straight.

“Dean,” he started, glancing at him carefully, “I’m driving as fast as possible without killing us. You’re no good to Y/N if you’re dead in a ditch somewhere.”

Somehow, it filtered through and Dean’s shoulders relaxed. He sat back in his seat, mumbling an apology. Sam didn’t say anything to accept or reject it, letting his brother stew in what was most likely guilt and self-loathing for saying yes in the first place.

They’d be home in time. They had to be.

*****

The tips of your fingers were cold. Jack watched from his seat at the side of your bed, holding your limp hand in his. He’d read that familiar contact was comforting but he had no idea whether you knew he was there or not. Castiel had left a few hours ago to try and find Nick, although Jack suspected it was a distraction from feeling useless.

A feeling the younger man knew far too well these days.

He could have healed you if he had his powers. He could have found Dean and brought him home. Instead, all he could do was sit here and hold your hand like he was doing anything helpful. Jack was just watching you fade.

Sam hadn’t texted back. It had been five hours since he’d said they were on their way back and Jack was starting to worry that something had happened. What if it had been a trap? What if Sam was dead, Dean gone again? He felt like he was losing everyone around him, completely helpless to anything that came along.

You twitched and mumbled Dean’s name. Jack didn’t react - you’d been doing that for hours. The cold sweat that clung to your skin was the last stage of the fever forcing your organs to fail. Even if Dean came back now, there was nothing he’d be able to do.

The bedroom door opened and Maggie walked in, frowning at your prone form on the bed. Behind her, Castiel trailed with a glum expression on his face. “Jack,” he greeted, moving past the young girl to stand on the opposite side of your bed.

He reached out, placing one hand on your forehead and Jack watched his face; he didn’t need to speak for the young man to know the truth. “She’s losing,” Jack murmured. “She’s getting cold.”

Cas nodded. “It may be time to consider taking her to a hospital.”

“What can they do?” Jack asked, frowning. “Sam said there’s nothing to help a sick Omega. Nothing but her Alpha and…” His words remained unspoken but they all knew that if Dean walked in through the door at that very moment, there would be nothing he could do.

“They may be able to prolong her life -”

Jack stood up, releasing your hand. “Prolong her suffering.”

The angel sighed, glancing at you. “I can assure you, Jack, she is no longer feeling anything. She is unaware of what is happening to her now.” His reassurance didn’t seem to do much for Jack, who continued to glare at his pseudo-father figure. “Medical intervention may be necessary to keep her with us until we can find a way to reverse what is happening.”

Maggie approached Jack, placing her hand on his shoulder. “If we leave her here, there’s no chance at all,” she said slowly, meeting his eyes as he lifted his head toward her, “but at a hospital, we might be able to find some hoodoo or something to bring her back.” She smiled. “You saved me, remember?”

“I had my powers then,” Jack mumbled. “And I didn’t save you.”

“You did,” she replied, squeezing his arm.

“Let’s make the arrangements,” Castiel informed them when Jack’s shoulders slumped. “I’ll call Sam.”

*****

When Sam got the call, Dean was asleep in the passenger seat. Exhaustion had won out over worry and Sam hadn’t even tried to wake him. He knew that Dean had to be feeling the separation from you deeply; he wouldn’t be surprised if his brother had fought Michael the entire way for welshing on their deal.

“Hey, Cas,” he answered. “Is everything -” Sam fell silent and Dean woke, looking over at him as the younger man’s face screwed up in what could only be dismay. “Okay. We’ll head straight there.”

“What’s happened?” Dean asked, glancing at the time on the dashboard as Sam answered.

“They’ve taken Y/N to the hospital. If they don’t…”

“We should have been back by now!” Dean growled, slamming his hand on the dash. “You let me sleep too long.”

“Dean!” Sam raised his voice and the Alpha’s expression went blank. It was unusual for an Alpha to defer to a Beta but in this instance, Sam had the clearer head. Dean was grieving, traumatized and not thinking straight in the slightest. “She’s been unresponsive for days. I didn’t wanna tell you how bad it was but… Dean, there’s nothing you can do for her now anyway. Our only hope now is to… look for a spell, find a potion.”

Dean was quiet for a moment and Sam could see his jaw clenching as he held back tears. He knew the thoughts that were going through his brother’s head right now; what if he hadn’t said yes, what if he’d never met you in the first place, what if, what if, what if.

Neither of them were strangers to those thoughts.

“Are we going to the hospital?” Dean whispered and Sam nodded, pressing his foot down on the gas. “Good. I wanna be with her.”

He didn’t speak again for the rest of the drive. When they reached the hospital, Dean was out of the car before Sam had even turned off the engine. “Dean, wait!” he called but the elder Winchester was already off through the entrance, heading for the reception desk.

The doctors wouldn’t let him see you. Jack and Maggie had brought you in, with Maggie claiming to be your younger sister so they could stay. Ordering Dean to stay in the waiting area while they fetched one of the young adults to confirm who they were, was like asking a bomb not to explode at the last second.

Dean couldn’t stay still. The second Jack emerged from the corridor into the waiting area with the doctor that had claimed responsibility for your care, the larger hunter was on him. Jack looked relieved to see him, accepting the embrace from the older man.

“Jack,” Sam greeted as the doctor watched.

“It’s okay, Dr. Robbins. This is Dean, Y/N’s Alpha.”

Dr. Robbins narrowed his eyes at the agitated male. “We don’t often get cases like these, Mr. Winchester, so you’ll excuse my skepticism. Young Jack here tells me that you were away on business.”

Dean nodded, glancing at Sam. He had no idea what the cover story was but Jack was already on it. “I told Dr. Robbins about the problems with your accounts in Europe. About the grounded flights and threat of terrorist action that kept you there.”

“I flew in on the first flight I could,” Dean huffed out, wringing his hands and Sam had to say, his acting was spot on. Although it wasn’t untrue - it just happened that the first flight was an angel vacating his meatsuit. “How is she?”

“Why don’t we take you through to her?” the doctor suggested, gesturing to the way he’d come with Jack. Dean nodded and followed, as Sam caught Jack’s arm.

“How is she, really?” he asked and Jack sighed heavily, his eyes wet with tears.

“She stopped breathing about a hour ago,” the kid admitted and Sam’s entire body felt numb. No matter what you were to Dean, Sam loved you like a sister. Watching you fade was one of the hardest things he’d had to do. “Has Cas found anything yet?”

Sam shook his head. “I haven’t heard from him.” His eyes went past Jack to the corridor as Maggie emerged, smiling shyly at him. “Jack -”

“Sam, what happens to Dean if she - if we can’t save her?” Jack’s voice was shaky and Sam’s expression crumbled. He didn’t have an answer. Widowed Omegas rarely survived. Alphas that made it through losing their Omegas?

He didn’t know any that had. There was no telling how or if Dean would survive.

“I’m don’t know,” he confessed, not even looking at Jack. “Why don’t you head back to the bunker? Help Cas. Find something.” Sam paused, closing his eyes for a brief second, swallowing his own grief. “Anything.”

*****

I have to be honest with you, Mr. Winchester. The machines are the only thing keeping your wife alive.

Wife. Huh. He’d never gotten around to even thinking about that and the doctor had just assumed. Dean didn’t correct him, too busy staring at you, lifeless and grey in the bright hospital room. Your hair was messy and greasy, knotted under your head where you lay.

Dr. Robbins was explaining things but it went right over Dean’s head. He just wanted him to leave.

In less extreme cases, I’d suggest a trial technique where we can transfuse some of your platelets into her bloodstream, replicating a mark so to speak. But in this instance… I’m afraid Y/N is too far past the threshold where it would be safe to do.

Dean didn’t want to ask what the next option was because he knew there was no next option. Their only hope now was the supernatural. Magic. Hoodoo. All those miracles that had come before. He wouldn’t mind one of those right now.

You can stay with her as long as you want. At the moment, she still has brain function and until that ceases to be a factor, we’ll do everything we can to care for her and help her.

Brain death. He’d heard that phrase before on television and in real life. The last time he’d heard it, Sam was the one in a coma.

The doctor left him alone when he didn’t respond. Every we can do. What did that entail? Were they just making you comfortable until you died?

Were they going to force him to make the decision to switch everything off?

He didn’t feel like he had enough tears in the world for the pain he was feeling. This was nothing compared to being possessed by Michael, to surviving Purgatory - this didn’t even come close to carving up souls on the rack, to being tortured for decades. Dean had never felt this pain, this gut-wrenching agony of losing a piece of his soul.

For hours, he remained at your bedside. The lights came on automatically when it was dark, providing dim illumination that cast eerie shadows over your features. It started to rain outside, hitting the window heavily and Dean could hear thunder in the distance.

Who would come for you? Would it be Billie? She’d expressed a fondness for you. Maybe she’d let you go to Heaven, even if you never got to share it with him. Dean couldn’t bear the thought of you ending up in the Empty. You deserved something for all the crap you’d been through.

His weeks trapped behind Michael’s grace were haunting him. This was all his fault. If he hadn’t said yes to Michael, if he’d found another way - maybe you’d be fine. You’d be at home, waiting for him, teasing him about something, anything; the fantasy was bittersweet remembrance.

Dean had fought. God, he’d fought until Michael was threatening to return to you and take you for his own. He’d seen Dean’s memories of you and used them as a weapon to hold over his vessel. As long as Dean stopped fighting, you’d be fine.

There was still the question of Michael’s sudden departure. Dean had no idea what the angel was planning beyond his experimentation with monsters. Had he left just so Dean could be here, to witness this? Had the archangel known what was happening this whole time?

An archangel could save you.

An archangel, with the power Michael had, could save you.

Dean would say yes again if it meant bringing you back.

It was morning when Sam came to check on him, finding his brother slumped over your bed with one hand wrapped around your waist. The sound of the machine breathing for you was loud in the small room and Sam frowned when Dean didn’t wake up.

“Dean?” His brother stirred, rolling his head to look up at Sam with bleary eyes. “Hey, man. I brought you some coffee.”

“Thanks,” Dean mumbled, taking the cup from Sam’s outstretched hand. “Find anything?” His idea about Michael from before floated back to the front of his thoughts and he sipped his coffee as Sam answered.

“No spell but Cas had an idea,” Sam started, walking around the bed to sit opposite his brother, your bed between them. “Y/N doesn’t know you’re back. She’s got no reason to fight this right now.” Dean blinked, unsure where Sam was headed. “She’s still in there. So we get some African Dream Root and you go in there.”

It was an idea. Maybe not the best one but it was better than saying yes all over again.

“I can’t mark her in a dream, Sam,” Dean pointed out. “It’s not just the… y’know -”

“Soulmate connection?” Sam teased, knowing how much Dean hated that sappy romantic crap. Out loud, anyway. The elder man’s cheeks turned pink and Sam smiled, leaning on the bed a little, glancing at you. “That’s the part we’re having trouble with. And we’re running out of time. Fast.”

The doctor’s words came back to him. “Dr. Robbins,” Dean mumbled, “said something about a transfusion. Because we’re a match for the enzyme, they can put my blood in her blood?” He shook his head. “I wasn’t really listening.”

Sam looked sympathetic at that but Dean’s suggestion was ringing bells in his head. “Do you think they’d try it anyway?”

“I don’t know. He said it was risky at this stage.”

“What if she improved?” Sam mused, thinking about asking Castiel to try and heal you again, just enough for them to do the transfusion. Dean shrugged, clueless to Sam’s thoughts. “I’m gonna call Cas. If we can figure out how to do both things at the same time, it might work to bring her out of it.”

Doubts raised themselves in Dean’s mind but he didn’t say anything. He knew that the idea of finding Michael wouldn’t leave him alone and he also knew Sam would lock him in the dungeon before he let him do it. No matter the cost, Dean couldn’t be possessed again.

Sam left the room and Dean laid his head back down, cradling your hand in his. He missed you so much. He missed your laugh, the way your nose scrunched up when you found something either amusing or disgusting. The way you’d yell at him for leaving socks right next to the damn laundry basket. You were the domestic life he never thought he’d have, the Omega he’d never looked for.

He never needed to.

The door opened before Dean could give into fresh grief and he looked up as Sam returned. “What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning at his brother. “Something happen?”

“No,” Sam shook his head, “but I can’t get hold of Cas. I’m gonna drive back and check on everything. You okay here?”

Dean nodded, not even sparing Sam a glance as he left again. The sound of the machines working to keep you alive filled the room again and Dean closed his eyes, trying not to hear them.

After a few seconds, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, the same phone Michael had been using. Scrolling through the few numbers on there, Dean found the one he wanted and dialed, lifting the phone to his ear as his kept his eyes on you.

“Yeah, it’s me.” He paused as the person on the other end of the line requested clarification. “The real me.” Dragging his gaze away from you, Dean sighed. “I need your help.”

*****

Sam and Cas walked silently through the hospital corridor. The angel carried the ingredients for the dream root enchantment as the hunter took the lead, opening the door to your private room. He wasn’t expecting to find Dean with company.

“Sister Jo,” he exclaimed as Castiel side-eyed the glamourous angel from the doorway. “What are you doing here?”

“I called her,” Dean grunted, still in the same place he’d been when Sam left. “She’s a healer. I figure, two angels are better than one.” The way Jo looked made Sam hesitate to accept the answer. After a second or two, he decided to ask what Dean’s original plan had been.

“That it?” he asked, the words forcing his brother to look at him. Sister Jo squirmed and looked anywhere but at them, confirming Sam’s suspicions while Dean remained silent. “Because Jo called me the other day, tipped me off to where you were. And there’s something more powerful than an angel’s healing.”

Castiel caught on, his entire posture stiffening in disappointment. “You wanted to contact Michael.”

“Look,” Dean growled, getting to his feet and none of them missed the unsteady sway of his body, “Michael left me. I don’t know why and I don’t care. But he could help her. He could fix her.”

“In exchange for what?” Sam demanded. “Permanent residence?” Dean looked away and Sam scoffed. “Dean!”

“It doesn’t matter!” Jo squeaked, holding up her hands. “I said no. I’ve been close enough to Michael to not wanna go near him again. But…” She sighed and shook her head. “Y/N was nice to me. And I’ll help if I can.”

Dean registered what Castiel was holding. “Dream root?” Cas nodded. “Really think that’s gonna work?”

Sam shrugged. “We don’t have a choice.” His brother opened and shut his mouth. “But in order to even try it, you gotta be in a fit state to give blood, man. And right now, you’re seconds from collapsing. All you’ve had is coffee since we got you back.”

“Not a diet I haven’t survived on before,” Dean grumbled, raising an eyebrow as Castiel crossed the room and dumped his cargo on the table.

“Either way,” Sam insisted, “the doctor won’t let you do it without you eating. And we need you strong enough to take the dream root and coax Y/N out.” He fixed his eyes on his brother. “It’s probably better to convince the doctor first then you should go -”

“Ain’t goin’ anywhere.” The force of Dean’s interruption made all three of the other conscious occupants of the room look at him. “I’ll do whatever hocus pocus you like but I am not leaving her side.” Silence met his announcement and he sat back down.

Sam dropped his gaze, trying not to smile at his brother’s devotion. Dean didn’t consider you a weakness but he’d always flat out deny being as hopelessly in love with you as he was. That was the part that he regarded as weakness.

Sam wasn’t gonna make him feel worse.

“I’ll go get you something to eat,” he said, touching his brother’s shoulder briefly before backing away to the door. He raised a hand, gesturing to the angels in the room. “You two should try and heal her a little, at least enough to get the doctor to agree to the transfusion.”

*****

Even with the improved vitals courtesy of angelic grace, Dr. Robbins had been reluctant to agree to the transfusion until they agreed on one particular item that Dean was exceptionally resistant to. The trauma of the procedure on your already weakened systems could be fatal and your Alpha had to accept that, agreeing to sign a DNR so that no exceptional measures were used to bring you back.

If you flatlined now, there wasn’t much hope of you surviving.

Dean’s hand shook when he signed the paperwork, still thinking about ways to contact Michael. Sam knew it, sending him the occasional glare as they prepped the equipment to draw his brother’s blood.

“Now, you’re gonna feel a little faint after this,” the nurse informed the elder Winchester, tapping the crook of his elbow to find a vein. “But you can have a lie down and a cookie afterward, you’ll be right as rain.” Dean nodded, not even flinching when the needle entered his arm.

He locked his eyes on his brother, stood across the room by your bed. They’d tried to get him to leave you but Dean resisted, eventually threatening violence if they tried to remove him. The doctor had given in, muttering something about Alphas being the worst relatives and leaving the nurse to draw blood.

They were taking as much as was safe, despite Dean’s insistence they could take more. Sam simply rolled his eyes when the nurse scolded him, hiding his smile at his brother’s petulance.

When it was done, Dean looked even worse than he did before, his eyes sunken and skin pale. The nurse encouraged him to lie down on the cot they’d brought in for him and he didn’t put up a second of resistance, literally flopping back.

Sam grabbed the container of dream root potion from the table, moving to his brother’s side. “Hey, man, I got you a smoothie.” The nurse wrinkled her nose as she picked up the blood bags and Sam gave her a lopsided grin. “Old family recipe. The root is cinnamon.”

It didn’t look remotely like cinnamon but the nurse bought it and went about her preparations as Sam helped Dean sit up a little to drink the potion.

“Be quick about it,” he murmured, letting Dean lay back down once he’d drained the foul concoction. His eyes closed quickly, the blood loss making it a lot easier for him to slip into slumber, a fact Sam was grateful for. Punching Dean out in the middle of a hospital would probably draw unnecessary attention.

A new machine started to whirr loudly and Sam turned, standing straight as the nurse started the transfusion. “This is going to take a while,” she whispered. “But you can stay with them. Your brother seems like he might need the company.”

“Thank you,” Sam murmured, watching your face. He wasn’t expecting anything to happen right away but the hope was still there.

“I hope this works,” the nurse added, giving him a gentle smile. “Your brother seems quite lost without her.”

“Yeah.” Looking back, Sam watched his brother sleep, hoping against all hope that this worked. “He is.”

*****

“If you take my hand, I swear I will get you out of here,” Dean called, reaching down into the hole that had once been the floor of your living room. Below you, something screeched and you sobbed, clinging onto the cable that was holding you from certain death. “Sweetheart, you gotta trust me.”

“I don’t even know you!” you shrieked, feeling something brush your leg. You jerked and your hands slipped further down the cable.

Dean growled, looking around for anything to help haul you out. Below you, the wendigo snarled again and you felt it prowling, trying to reach for you. It was slow thanks to years of hibernating but still deadly.

“This was supposed to be a fresh start,” you sobbed, wondering how the hell your idyllic life in a brand new house on a lovely new neighborhood had gone to… hell. You were dangling over a collapsed mine shaft with a monster looking to make you it’s next meal.

Dean’s hand suddenly got a lot closer and he grunted, grabbing your wrist. You screamed when something else grabbed your ankle at the same time and you became the rope in a tug of war between the monster and the possibly-fake-FBI agent that had turned up on your doorstep two days ago ranting about monsters.

Death was a certainty. People didn’t make it out of these situations. You were going to be a paragraph in a newspaper by Monday morning.

“Come on!” Dean yelled, rage and exertion making his face red. “I got you,” he grunted, giving one last pull.

Something flew over your head and heat burst underneath you, accompanying the wailing of the creature as it caught fire. You didn’t have time to look as Dean dragged you over the edge, away from danger as Sam panted behind him.

Your house was going to burn down.

“You okay?” Dean asked, checking you over frantically. “Shit.” He found the gash on your arm, deep enough to still be bleeding. “I should have got here sooner.”

You managed a smile, touching his face to halt his inspection. “Dean, I’m fine. I’m alive.” The house was starting to crumble. “But we should probably get out of here.”

Everything you had was gone. The people responsible had no idea how a mine shaft hadn’t been detected underneath the properties they’d built and Sam mused about how many more developments would lead to creatures you didn’t normally find in the suburbs harassing residents.

But now the monsters were dealt with, there was the other glaring issue. The one they’d faced when you opened the door to the two definitely-fake-FBI agents and realized Dean was your Alpha. There was no going back.

The night after, you’d sat in a motel room with nothing but the clothes on your back, which stank of smoke. Dean had stitched up the wound in your arm and then left with his brother. Sam had been distant with you, like you were a threat and you didn’t understand why.

Yes, Dean was your Alpha. But that didn’t mean anything had to happen.

He was gone now, anyway.

You couldn’t sleep. Tossing and turning in the unfamiliar bed and thinking about how to get your life back in order. Having only lived in the house for a few months, you hadn’t lost a great deal of personal possessions and once you’d been to the bank, you could get access to funds to get back on your feet.

Except you didn’t want to.

Someone knocked on the motel room door at four am and you climbed out of bed, frowning as you opened the door. Stood on the path outside, soaked from the rain you didn’t even know was falling, was Dean. He stared at you, shivering, drops of water gliding down his face to trickle off of his chin.

“Dean -”

He was through the door in an instant, cupping your face and drawing you into a heated kiss that stopped what you were going to say. When you parted, you shuddered, looking up into his darkened eyes.

“I thought you left,” you murmured.

“No,” he shook his head, sprinkling you with rain water, “we just got another room and I… went for a walk.”

“In the rain?” Dean smiled and nodded, making you giggle as you reached up to push his hair back from his forehead. “You’re a bit of a dope, Dean Cornell.”

“It’s Winchester,” he corrected. “Dean and Sam Winchester.” He kicked the door shut with his foot. “I want you,” he stated bluntly and you blinked, tilting your head a little. “But I gotta be honest with you.”

Stepping away, you regarded him coolly before turning and rushing into the bathroom. Dean frowned in confusion, realization dawning on his face when you emerged with a towel and handed it to him. “Don’t want you to get sick,” you muttered.

“Thanks.” He dragged the towel over his head, drying himself as best he can. “We’re not FBI,” Dean started, digging into his ears with a wince that was all kinds of adorable and you rolled your eyes.

“Duh.”

He chuckled at that. “We’re hunters. That thing, the wendigo in the mines under your house?” You nodded, trying not to shudder at the nightmare memory. “We hunt things like that. Werewolves, ghouls, vampires, ghosts -”

“Wait,” you stopped him, “are you telling me those things are all real?” Dean nodded, holding the towel in his fingers. You absorbed that information and grinned. “I know it probably isn’t for you, but that’s kinda awesome.”

“Oh, it ain’t glamorous, sweetheart,” he laughed, tossing the towel onto the table behind him. “It’s dangerous, brutal, bloody - people get hurt. People get killed. And worse.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And that’s why I gotta be honest with you. Because there’s something drawing me in and I wanna touch you so bad -”

“Then touch me,” you shrugged.

“Ain’t that simple.”

“Why not?”

He stared at you for a second. “It’s dangerous. You could die.”

“Everyone dies, Dean,” you reminded him.

“Yeah, you die safe and warm and old and loved in your bed, surrounded by family. I die bloody. Painfully. People I love end up that way too.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’ve known me 48 hours and you think you’re in love. Jeez, buddy, slow down.” He narrowed his eyes at your comment and you smiled at him. “I’m joking. I know what this is. Genetic attraction. It happens.” He didn’t say anything, still watching you with slitted eyes. “Look,” you continued, “I don’t know you. You don’t know me. But you saved my life back there, almost at the expense of your own. And you’re right, I’m drawn to you as much as you are to me.”

“Do I need to repeat the list of monsters and horrible, horrible ways to die?” Dean asked. You didn’t stop smiling, moving a little closer to him. “Because there are so many…”

“I don’t care,” you whispered, gently pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth and Dean’s head moved a fraction, seeking out more. “I don’t want to hunt. I’m not interested in that. But I’m not willing to let the only man I’ve ever felt like this around to walk away without finding out if it could work.”

“What about your life here?” he replied, catching your cheek with one hand, ghosting his lips against yours. You were on tiptoes now, seconds from letting him devour you. “Friends. Family. Work.”

You brushed your nose back and forth against the tip of his. “My life was in that house. It’s gone. I don’t have friends. Family is all gone. It’s just me and…” Trailing off into a shrug, you smiled a little. “I don’t have anything to keep me here.”

Dean was so close now and you licked your lips, savoring his scent. It seemed stronger than it had before, this close, and he inhaled, clearly scenting you back. You closed your eyes and leaned in, letting the spicy aroma surround you, ready to take that plunge.

“Y/N…”

His voice sounded odd and you pulled back, seeing his image flicker. “Dean?” you whispered and then he was solid again, dressed differently in a loose white shirt that was crinkled and filthy. He looked exhausted and the relief in his eyes when he held your face in his hands was overwhelming.

You repeated his name, unsure what was happening and then he was kissing you, deeply, knowingly, like he’d done it a thousand times before. With a gasp, each and every one of those times rushed back to you, prompting you to cling to his shoulders, feeling the same relief you’d seen in his eyes seconds before.

“Dean,” you whimpered, tears spilling from your cheeks. “I was…”

“I know,” he murmured.

“How are you here?”

“African Dream Root.” You blinked up at him, frowning. “I don’t think we’re in any danger here,” Dean added, looking around. “I think… this is your greatest hits. When you die, you sorta go through them. Which means there’s a reaper around here somewhere.”

“Greatest hits?” You shook your head, perplexed by the phrase. “I thought I was already dead. I just… I gave in…”

“That’s what’s supposed to happen,” Dean whispered, sounding defeated. “You… you gave in?”

“I tried to fight it,” you insisted, “but it was so hard without you and I couldn’t… I’m not strong enough.” You touched his face, seeing the few days of stubble growing there. “Is it really you? I’m not just hallucinating?” Dean smiled, covering your hands with his. “You got rid of Michael?”

“He left,” Dean explained, “and we don’t know why but that’s not important right now. What’s important, is getting you out of here. Cas and Sister Jo healed you as much as they could and the doctor is doing a blood transfusion. So you can wake up once your body has what it needs.”

“A blood transfusion?” You wrinkled your nose. “Whose blood?”

“Mine.”

It made sense, if you thought about it. Dean’s blood would have a far higher concentration of the enzyme yours was lacking, so a transfusion would get it where it needed to be quickly. “Are you okay?” you asked and he nodded, taking hold of your hands.

“I’m fine now I’m with you. But we gotta wake you up so Jo can heal you properly.”

“I don’t know how,” you admitted. Dean’s eyebrow knit together as you looked around the motel room. “This was just a memory. I don’t… is it like with the djinn? You have to kill yourself in the -”

“No!” Dean exclaimed. “Not a good idea. I think… hey, I remember this night.” He pointed at the hideous pink and green wallpaper. “I definitely remember the awful decor.” Looking back at you, he slipped his hands around your waist. “This is one of your best memories?”

“The night I fell in love with you?” You smiled, letting him sway you from side to side. “How could it not be?”

He hummed, spinning you a little. “You never even flinched at me telling you all those things about hunting. You still wanted me.” A giggle left you when Dean dipped you like a ballroom dancer. “Never thought I’d find an Omega. Never thought I wanted one until I laid eyes on you.”

“And you had me,” you whispered. “Repeatedly, if I remember correctly.”

Dean’s answering chuckle rumbled through his chest. “Yeah.” His hands run along your sides as he came to a stop by the bed and you gasped in surprise when he kissed you. “Maybe the way out,” he muttered, kissing from your mouth along to the spot where your jaw met your ear, “is to relive old memories.”

You arched into his hold, feeling the same rush of excitement as you had the first time, like you did every time. Dean’s hands wandered, moving you where he wanted you. He stripped you like he had then, slowly, purposefully stopping to tease your nipples with his tongue, working his way down your body until he was peeling your panties over your hips.

There wasn’t really anything in the world like Dean Winchester’s enthusiasm for eating pussy. Before he’d even started, he’d pushed you back onto the bed so you were laying flat with your feet holding your legs apart on the edge of the bed frame.

He had you screaming his name in four minutes flat, two fingers deep inside you as his tongue worked at your clit. Even when you were coming apart, he didn’t stop, keeping up the pace and forcing you to beg for release. Dean chuckled against you and looked up.

“I could have sworn you lasted longer than that before,” he commented, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as you panted for breath, a smile on your lips. “Want my knot, ‘mega?”

“Yeah,” you replied languidly, letting your legs fall open, watching him stand and strip his clothing until he was bare for you. “Want your mark, Dean. Just like that first night.”

“That wasn’t exactly planned,” he reminded you and you raised an eyebrow. “I mean, we hadn’t even talked and then you were showing me your throat and I couldn’t see past you being mine.” Dean climbed back onto the bed, settling between your thighs. “You are, you know.”

“I know,” you acknowledged, drawing him into a kiss, feeling him line up to sink home. “Alpha.” Dean groaned as he penetrated you, the sound vibrating against your mouth. “Dean -” He cut you off, dragging his tongue past your lips to entice you into a fight for dominance and you giggled, both of you clinging to the other. It was sloppy and messy and everything that first time hadn’t been.

You’d been awkward then. Strangers with no clue what the other liked, what made them feel good.

It was a dance you and Dean learned perfectly.

A euphoric heat seemed to filled your veins as your Alpha fucked you, neither of you bothering to follow the script from the real memory of this moment. For one, Dean had lasted about five seconds before popping a knot the first time and you’d been too nervous to even get close to orgasm.

But you’d had all night then. It was safe to assume you did not have the luxury of time.

“Dean,” you whimpered, touching his face. He didn’t stop moving, locking his eyes on yours and you could feel the sweat building up on his skin. “What if -”

“Don’t,” Dean hissed, kissing you to shut you up. “Just lemme make you feel good, sweetheart.” You nodded, closing your eyes as Dean’s mouth trailed along your jaw and down to your throat, where his mark should have lain on the right, scarred silver against your skin.

Losing yourself in bliss was easy in Dean’s arms. He kept moving at a steady pace, pulling your body to meet his even as you lifted yourself with each thrust. His knot was thickening, catching on your sensitive walls and you dug your nails into his back.

He didn’t need to warn you that he was close; you could feel it. Your throaty moan of completion was accompanied by Dean’s as he gave one last hard stroke, burying the full length of his cock inside, his knot locking you together as he came. You screamed as he sank his teeth into your throat, exactly where he had before.

At least, you thought in the haze of pleasure, if this didn’t work, you could leave wrapped in his arms. You were always safe with Dean. All in all, it wasn’t the worst way to go.

“I love you,” Dean whispered, voice a rumble against your throat. He didn’t lift his head and you didn’t reply, simply wrapping your arms around him, trying to hold on to him.

But you could already feel everything slipping away.

*****

Dean had been asleep for two hours. Sam wasn’t sure what was happening but you were still alive, the transfusion done and your vitals remaining steady. You hadn’t woken either but Dr. Robbins was pleased with your progress and reassured Sam that the procedure may have worked.

Physically, you would be fine.

If Dean had managed to find you and get you to fight. Medical intervention couldn’t do anything for the spiritual or for the soul.

Sam leaned back in his chair, scrubbing a hand over his face. This was only the first hurdle. Michael was still out there and it was troubling Sam that his brother had wanted to find the archangel to save you. What influence did he still hold over Dean? They still hadn’t found any answers to why Michael had suddenly left.

A knock at the door made Sam sit up and he glanced over as Sister Jo walked in. He didn’t particularly like or trust the angel but she’d helped so far, although he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Nothing?” she asked and Sam shook his head, watching her as she shut the door and crossed the room to your bed.

He waited when Jo placed her hand on your forehead, closing her eyes to concentrate. The soft glow that emitting from her palm seemed to draw the color back into your skin and Sam allowed himself to indulge the little hope he’d had left.

“She’s healing,” Jo mumbled, not opening her eyes. Seconds passed and Dean groaned, rolling over on the cot. Sam was on his feet in an instant, ignoring the angel as she stepped back from the bed. Jo turned as Dean opened his eyes, sitting up while Sam crouched in front of him, reaching out to touch the other man’s shoulder gently. “She’s gonna be fine.”

Dean blinked at Sam, still looking every inch as exhausted as he had before. Without needing to be asked, Sister Jo moved closer and did to him what she’d done to you and Dean gasped at the sudden warmth.

“You owe me,” she warned good-naturedly and Sam gave her a half-hearted smile, focusing back on Dean as the angel flounced out of the room. He had no doubt they’d see her again and he didn’t want to think about what she’d ask.

“Dean?”

The older brother didn’t answer, scrubbing his hand over his face before looking up at you. “She’s not awake.”

Sam didn’t look away. “What happened?” Dean’s cheeks went a little red and Sam clamped his mouth shut for a second. “Nevermind. I don’t wanna know.”

“She was living through her memories,” Dean murmured, not taking his eyes away from you. He pushed Sam away, getting to his feet and lurching towards the bed. “She should be awake, she…” He placed his hand on your forehead. “Come on, sweetheart. You were with me. Right there.”

“Dean, she might need a few -”

“Something’s wrong,” Dean insisted, cutting him off. “I have to go back, I have to -”

“You’re being impatient,” Sam interrupted, walking around the bed in an effort to catch his brother’s attention. “She’s been through a massive trauma, Dean. She needs time, even with Jo’s help.” Dean wouldn’t look at him, keeping his eyes on you and Sam sighed. “Dean.”

The machine beeped loudly and panic instantly flared on the older Winchester’s face. Your eyes snapped open, the same panic reflected in yours and Sam slammed his hand onto the call button. Dean caught your hands as you went to pull at the tube in your mouth, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes.

“It’s okay,” Dean soothed, not looking up when the door burst open and Dr. Robbins flooded in with his staff. They shooed Sam away from the bed but didn’t attempt to remove Dean, letting him stay where he was as they checked you over.

“Y/N, I’m Dr. Robbins.” The large older gentleman leaned over you, smiling and you looked to your Alpha for reassurance, nodding when he did. “We need to get this tube out, okay?”

*****

“How are you feeling?” Dean asked, once all of the doctors and nurses had left the room. Sam had gone to find something to eat for all three of you and you were busy trying to process everything, to separate reality from hallucination.

Shrugging, you picked at the tape holding the IV into your arm. They were going to take all of this crap out at some point but for now, Dr. Robbins wanted to make sure everything was fine for a few hours before letting you loose. “I’m okay,” you muttered, giving him a sideways glance. “I’m pissed at you.”

His eyes went wide. “What?”

“You said yes, you jerk,” you growled, slapping at his hand and Dean snatched it away, pouting. “You said yes to Michael.”

“I did have a good reason too,” Dean grunted back, cradling his hand like you’d actually hurt him. You hadn’t but he could never avoid a good sulk. “Lucifer had you and Sam and Jack. He was gonna kill you.” The expression on your face softened but you were still at least a little angry at him. “Look, I know it was reckless but you know I’m not gonna stand by if there’s something I can do.”

“But he’s gone now, right?”

Dean sighed, nodding. “We just don’t know why.” He leaned in, taking your hand and resting his forehead against your fingers. “I can’t wait to get you home.”

“If you’re thinking we’ll get some privacy,” you drawled, “you’re very wrong.”

“Why?” he frowned, lifting his head again.

“Lots of people. The bunker sort of became the unofficial headquarters of… well, something I guess.” You squeezed his fingers gently, smiling reassuringly. “Don’t worry, our room is safe.” Dean chuckled, kissing your palm. “Dean -”

“Yeah?”

“Promise me… you won’t let him back in.”

He was quiet for a few moments before he sighed and stood up, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “I promise,” he whispered. You knew he was most likely lying. Michael was still the biggest threat out there and Dean didn’t know what was going to happen. Neither of you did.

All you could do was hope for the best.


End file.
